


We're just two black holes, dancing with each other

by heartof_paper



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Glomgold's past enlightened, M/M, Sexual Tension, Shipwreck, deserted island, just trying to survive, no elaborate schemes today (i think not), when will glomgold learn, when will scrooge learn, when you're the only two on an island you start learning things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24037192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartof_paper/pseuds/heartof_paper
Summary: What do you do when you're stuck on an island with your rival? Survive, of course. But it's a lot harder than that, especially when your companion won't stop pestering you. What is Glomgold hiding?
Relationships: Flintheart Glomgold/Scrooge McDuck
Comments: 18
Kudos: 58





	1. Your boldness stands alone among the wreck

**Author's Note:**

> This ship needs more fics, so I did it. I hope you enjoy.

“Ye cannae stop me now, McDuck!” 

An aggressive snap of a twig under a forcefully heavy step.

“Shut it, Flintheart, now is _not_ the time for yer confounded competitiveness.”

Approaching the horizon, the shorter duck felt victorious as he made it to the beach before the other did. Ignoring Scrooge’s lack of enthusiasm, Glomgold celebrated his triumphant victory by throwing his hands in the air. Forgetting he had a large but hollow log in his grasp he cursed as the wood fell on to his foot. 

Scrooge only shook his head as he stepped on to the sand, dropping his own rather large chunk of wood that had luckily fallen over away from his feet. 

“Whatever. You were just saying that because ye knew you would lose,” Glomgold preened, kicking the log away from himself as a small show of dominance. 

There was no follow-up to Glomgold’s remark. The Scotsman had no energy to spare and was resolved to collecting anything useful that he could find. He turned away and headed back into the forest, his shoulders hunched forward and his hands clasped into fists at his sides. His spats were damaged, one of them almost completely torn, moments from slipping off his foot. His glasses and top hat were missing, lost to the sea only seconds after entering it. He didn’t have his coat and was left in his singlet. The quicker he took it off to dry the quicker he could have his coat back. It’s more than Glomgold was willing to do. He was still fully dressed, excluding his spats and tam o’ shanter, the water clinging to his feathers and clothes remaining damp.

Glomgold could have just sat on the log and let Scrooge do all the work. He wasn’t obliged to help him, but it wasn’t necessarily helping if he made a game out of it. Besides, he wasn’t going to let there be any chance of Scrooge proving he was the better Scottish billionaire; doing nothing is the same as surrendering. He followed Scrooge into the forest, keeping his distance. He was well aware of Scrooge’s agitation and usually, he wouldn’t care and would continue to pester him, but this time he couldn’t push him too far, he needed to use him to build the shelter. 

The older duck stopped to pick up several large sticks, bunching them in his hand and resting them over his shoulder as he stood back up. He looked to his side to see Flintheart in the distance, tugging on a vine hanging from a tree. After a final strong pull, it detached and the momentum caused Glomgold to fall back, the dampness of his clothes making them incredibly dirty. Scrooge had an incredulous look, going against his better judgement to speak up. 

“What in the blazes are ye doing?”

Glomgold flinched, his embarrassment almost being shown to the other duck but quickly switching his attitude to pride despite being caught with his ass in the dirt.

“Rope!” he spat out. “Y’know, fer tyin’ the wood together.” He picked himself off the ground, untangling the vine from around his neck, almost strangling himself in the process. 

An eyebrow raised on Scrooge’s face, an involuntary hiccup of a laugh escaped him. “I would not think, in a million years, that a sensible idea would come from that head of yours.” He turned away again and started to trek further into the forest. 

Glomgold’s beak dropped open, a garbled noise quickly cut short almost escaping his throat. A low growl took its place as he took leaping steps to catch up to Scrooge. He had the vine wrapped around and hanging loosely on his shoulders like a necklace. Combined with his wet clothes, he was carrying extra weight that he was not used to and the sandflies were another nuisance that was tipping him over the edge of his breaking point. 

“Well, excuse me, Scrooge, fer not being smarter than the smarties, Mister High-and-Mighty! Who’s to say smarts isn’t subjective, I could be smarter than you!” 

Scrooge stopped in his tracks, his shoulders rising and fists shaking from the force he’s using to clench them. His feathers were starting to rise, standing up ever so slightly. He spun on his feet and pushed his face into Glomgold’s own. 

“Smarts is _not_ subjective,” he jabbed his index finger into the other’s chest, causing Glomgold’s hand to twitch, “I _am_ smarter, I _am_ tougher, and I am _sharper_. Don’t test me, Glomgold.” He lingered for a few moments, his beak hovering just above Flintheart’s, and glared into his eyes before swiftly turning back. 

Glomgold couldn’t deny that he was perturbed by what just occurred, but he wouldn’t let the shock show. He was not being one-upped by Scrooge McDuck. 

He loitered a few steps behind as he called out to the Scotsman, “I thought ye were an adventurer, but it seems you’ve gotten tired so easily, making you and yer withered bones so snappy. It’s about time you retired, old man.”

“Glomgold,” Scrooge growled before turning to face him but didn’t make a move of getting closer, “need I remind you it’s _your fault_ we’re on this blasted island? ‘m stranded ‘ere, with you, with no way of knowing that my family made it home safe! This situation isn’t the issue here, Flintheart, it’s the fact that one of yer bloody schemes has separated me from my family amidst a dangerous expedition!”

A bubble formed in Glomgold’s throat. He wasn’t putting a label on it, he was just going to silently let it rise before dropping into his stomach like lead. 

Scrooge remained standing there, staring at Glomgold and holding his breath. He let it out in quick succession as a sigh. He turned his head slightly to the side before softly speaking again, “I jus’ don’t understand why you go so far for a rivalry so petty. What are yer tryin’ to prove?”

The world around Flintheart turned to greyscale and the sun shied away behind threatening clouds. His eyes had a glaze that disappeared with a drop of an eyelid. His head was filled with the sound of scuffling feet and tolling bells. He cleared his throat, “only that I’m the best Scottish billionaire out of the two of us!” 

Scrooge remained stoic in his position. His heart opened just a bit and he let it fill up with pity. His eyes softened but it wouldn’t be noticed in the distance; he couldn’t forget who he was dealing with. 

“Well, I cannae deny the truth,” He admitted and let it linger. He turned around and took small steps, knowing that Glomgold would be too shocked to continue forward.

A deep rumble of a shocked laugh erupted from the shorter duck as he thrust his finger in the direction of Scrooge’s figure. He cried, “aha! I got ye to admit that I’m the best billionaire!”

Scrooge grinned, “yep, because I’m the best _trillionaire._ ” Although he would have loved to see Glomgold’s reaction, to have a deeper effect would be by ignoring him, so he started to search again and left Glomgold behind. 

In the distance, he heard a bellowing, “curse you, McDuck!”

A curtain of palm leaves swayed in the gentle breeze carried from the ocean. Glomgold sat alone on the sand, facing the front of the shelter. He pouted as he watched a soldier crab scuttle past. 

“I don’t see why ye get to have the shelter to yerself,” Glomgold grumbled, drawing small sharks in the sand. 

“I don’t see why ye deserve to stay in the shelter,” came Scrooge’s voice from the other side of the curtain.

In frustration, Glomgold erased the drawing he made and tried to draw Sharkbomb instead. “I didn’t realise ye were such a wuss.” 

It’s not like Glomgold just let him take the shelter for himself. He’s tried countless times to go inside but every time he’s been knocked on his ass. He’s afraid that if it happens one more time he’s going to break something, which would be a real nuisance in their situation. 

A soft yet exaggerated sigh followed and soon after, Scrooge appeared as he stepped through the hanging leaves. He had his coat back on, fully dried but crusty with salt and sand. He wasn't going to admit that Glomgold may have been right and sitting and wallowing isn't something he would do. It was best to get on top of things before it got too late. Besides, he was starting to feel peckish.

Scrooge looked into the sky, squinting at the sun's bright light. He stated, "it's approximately three hours until sunset." He looked down at Glomgold who was staring up at him from his position, still on the ground and finger resting on the sand near his drawing. He moved his gaze to the sun, acting like he wasn't caught staring at the other duck. He stared directly at it and was blinded. He cursed as he snapped his head away, grumbling to himself. 

Scrooge couldn't deny he was amused by the smallest degree. 

Stepping past Glomgold, he surveyed the area around them and peered into the forest. Deducing the most effective plan he turned to Glomgold.

"I'm goin’ ter look for fruit or anythin’ edible in there. You can prepare to do some spearfishing." Scrooge pointed to the forest before making his way in.

Glomgold stood up urgently, rushing up to Scrooge and grabbing his sleeve to spin him around. 

"Why do ye get the easy job?" He complained, putting on an almost child-like frown. 

Scrooge bristled. "I'm literally askin’ ye to sit down and make the pointy end of a stick pointy-er! Maybe throw it. I was going ter help when I got back but maybe I won't bother."

Scrooge could see Glomgold was preparing to spill a buttload of utter bullshit, and for the sake of his sanity, he decided to put a cork in it before it exploded. He resigned and tugged his sleeve out of the annoying duck’s grasp, sighing, “forget it. Come with me.” He turned around before he could see the other’s victorious grin which he would have to fight himself to not slap off his smug and easily punchable face. 

Not long after marching into the forest, Scrooge found an impressively long stick that he thought would prove useful in the near future, so he picked it up and took it along with him. Glomgold remained relatively quiet behind him and he appeared to actually be actively looking for any sight of food. The quiet that Scrooge was reveling in didn’t last for long though as a thought that was running around Flintheart’s head eventually reached his tongue. 

“Wouldn’t it be better ter search the coastline first?” 

Scrooge stabbed the stick into the ground and turned around. He faced his palm upward, eyes furrowing, but that was more from his lack of glasses than his frustration. 

“Sure, you can do whatever ye want. I dinnae say ye had to stick by me. Go search the beach if ye must.,” Scrooge dismissed. He made his own way through the forest, not caring if Glomgold decided to follow or not, and if the sound of scuttling feet getting closer was any indication of his decision it’s safe to say he still had a companion on his quest for survival.

He had no idea why Glomgold was so adamant of sticking by him. It’s not like he hadn’t noticed the way the other so-called Scotsman made excuses to not be alone. Whether it be to annoy him in an unusually precarious way, or he’s genuinely afraid of being alone on this island. It’s not something he’s thought about in the few hours they’ve been washed up on the remote island, more worried about the safety of his family and where they might have been at that given time. He’s had no time to worry about the man who put him in this predicament in the first place, it’s not like he’s obligated to, there’s no way Glomgold was going to do the same for him, so why bother? Yet, despite his argument against it, he’s still got the nagging in his gut to keep a careful watch. Not to hover above him but to sneak cautionary glances from a distance. 

Besides, he feels partially responsible for the man he’d become.

Glomgold called out from behind him, making him turn around to face the other duck. He raised an eyebrow when Glomgold remained still with no sign of speaking up.

Under scrutiny, Glomgold got to the point. “D’ye think we should climb this tree ter get a better view? It feels like we’re wastin’ time just walkin’ around.”

Besides the fact that Glomgold has been sticking to him glue, the thing that surprised Scrooge the most about his behaviour was that he was actually cooperating and suggesting decent ideas. The shock must have been readable on his face because Glomgold knew exactly what he was thinking.

“I’m only helpin’ ‘cause I’m hungry. Just hurry up and tell me if it’s worth a shot.” 

Scrooge could only nod, mouth becoming noticeably dry. When Glomgold started his ascension up the tallest tree in the area it struck Scrooge that more important than food, they needed water. Calling up to Glomgold he stated his plan to search for freshwater and turned to urgently search before the other’s call caught him off guard. He should have been used to it by then.

Sliding down the trunk, Glomgold shouted, “No! I’ll come with ye!”

As he ran to Scrooge’s side, he refused to look at him and continued to stare ahead, his feathers raising slightly. 

“Wouldn’t it be more efficient to search separately?”

Glomgold laughed abruptly, the start loud before it calmed to his normal obnoxious laugh. “How could I annoy ye when we’re separated? Maybe there’ll be food around the water, too. Doesn’t it make more sense this way, Scroogey?”

Scrooge only hummed, side-eyeing the shorter duck. He was planning something. Maybe he’s leading him to a trap he’d set up previously when they were looking for materials? No. He’s been by his side the whole time. He might be planning on shoving him into the water when they find it. This whole island could be a scheme and being shipwrecked here was all a part of his elaborate plot. Although Scrooge couldn’t recall a scheme of his working this well, so he has his doubts. It could just be that Glomgold was afraid. The truth is, he knows almost nothing about the duck beside him. 

He subtly turned his head so he could get a better look in his peripheral. He was just able to catch the sandfly annoying Glomgold, flying close to his face, causing the duck to try and kill it in annoyance but only resulting in slapping himself with what sounded like quite a bit of strength. He winced before panic seemed to shock his body. He shot his head in Scrooge’s direction, the Scotsman just able to shift his eyes before he was caught.

It was… amusing.

Using the stick like his cane he stabbed the end into the ground as he walked, noting when the ground became softer or harder. He found the sound quite pleasing and the repetitiveness was soothing like a gently swaying boat, but Glomgold didn’t appear to have the same appreciation. His head or fingers would twitch at every stab, his frown gradually grew more obvious. Scrooge never asked about it though, and Glomgold never brought it up, which was surprising. He was half expecting him to grab the stick out of his hand and throw it away like a javelin. Maybe scream in his face or give him a swift kick to his leg. Although Glomgold has been nothing but surprising during the last few hours so Scrooge didn’t know what to expect. 

Glomgold sneezed and Scrooge noticed damp soil stuck to the end of the stick. He slapped Glomgold’s arm before running off, hoping it was enough of a sign to tell him to follow. He was getting dehydrated to the point where he was afraid of opening his mouth from how dry it felt. In his desperation he ran until he could notice any further signs of water, noticing the shallow gasps behind him as Glomgold struggled to keep up. 

A bright reflection caught his eye, peaking through foliage. The two made their way to the source, pushing away branches to reach it. Seeing it was exactly what Scrooge thought it was, he couldn’t help but be ecstatic and blur his excited mumbling into something incoherent. Kneeling at the water’s edge he noted the freshness of it before cupping the water and gulping down multiple handfuls of it. Glomgold followed suit, taking his place a few metres away from the other duck.

Glomgold stepped away while Scrooge still drank. He surveyed the area, noticing there was some fruit growing. He waited until Scrooge was finished before bringing up what was weighing on his mind. 

As Scrooge stood up and stepped away, wiping away any water remnants around his beak with his sleeve, Glomgold spoke up, “how do ye suppose we take this back to the shelter?”

Scrooge sighed, “I dunno. I’m going to-- I’ll just… have to think about it.” He turned to face Glomgold, “ye’ll be gathering fruit then? You can use the stick to help you knock fruit out of trees.” 

Glomgold scoffed, “I s’ppose. I’m more capable than ye, after all.” With that he made his way to the closest fruit tree. Scrooge bit his tongue, holding back the retort he would’ve spilled out of disdain. He turned his focus to the water, wondering just how he was going to effectively make use of the freshwater here. A temporary solution would be to make a path they could follow to lead them there, but it’s quite a journey to make often. He’d need to make something he could use to transport some to the beach. But that could take awhile with the limited resources they had. It’s certainly not something he could whip up at that moment. Although, it may be possible to weave a multi-layered palm basket. He wasn’t sure how effective it would be, but it was worth a shot. 

In the distance, the sound of something heavy crashing into the ground filled the surrounding space. The suddenness of it pulled Scrooge out of his thoughts and he looked around to find the source. Uneasiness crawled from the pit of his stomach to his throat. 

“Flintheart?” He called out. He was nowhere in sight. Scrooge only just caught the end of a whine from the other side of the shrubbery. His mind was empty as he passed through the surrounding flora to find Glomgold on the ground, curled up almost as if he was protecting himself. 

It didn’t look right. Nothing looked right about everything in front of him, from the scratches on his face to the way he seemed to cradle his arm between his torso and legs. 

Glomgold’s eyes opened and his pupils swayed to Scrooge’s direction before he shot up from his position on his side. He wiped the dirt from his face, feigning innocence and acting like there was nothing unusual about everything that just happened. He had the arm that was being cradled hidden behind his other. His eyes never left Scrooge’s, as if he was challenging him to even try to bring up what was going through his head. Since, really, there was nothing that needed to be brought forward. 

Scrooge took a step forward, “are you--”

“How’s the water comin’ along, eh?”

Scrooge blinked, unprepared for being interrupted and the normalcy in Glomgold’s voice. Despite that shock he wasn’t going to be manipulated into thinking everything was fine. He narrowed his eyes, testing Glomgold who met him halfway.

Everytime Scrooge got even an inch closer, Glomgold would push himself back just as much. It was a silly game that Scrooge was getting sick of, so before Flintheart could have the chance to react he gripped his shoulder, putting weight on him so it would be harder for the other duck to fight his way from him. 

“Get off me!” Glomgold growled, trying to knock Scrooge’s legs with the shoulder that was being gripped. He didn’t get a response and while he was preoccupied with trying to knock the duck that was above him over, his hidden arm was gripped and moved into the light. 

“No--!”

The limb wasn’t how it should be. His wrist was swollen and bruising and noticeably misplaced. His hand was way too far to the right of his wrist to even be considered ‘fine’. Scrooge lifted Glomgold’s arm and rested the wrist on his palm, noticing when the duck flinched as it touched his hand. He had his head turned away, not wanting to witness his vulnerability being displayed like a parade show to his rival. 

“Why did ye try ter hide this?” Scrooge asked, looking into the side of his face. 

Glomgold’s eyes shifted to look at Scrooge before he moved his head to follow. He replied, “why should it matter? I don’t feel it and it’s a nuisance more than anything! Don’t look down on me, McDuck.”

That was a lie and he knew it. Glomgold knew that he knew the bogus that he just let out of his mouth. 

Scrooge sighed, “what am I going to do with ye?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *completely tosses the fact that Glomgold has a high pain tolerance out the window*
> 
> I do feel bad ignoring that fact for convenience, but it's even shown in the show after Duke Baloney that he reacts to pain, so it's not too far-fetched. 
> 
> I really hope you like this so far, and I'd appreciate it if you let me know. Thank you!


	2. It's alarming how disarming you can be

Glomgold wanted nothing more than to wash the sand out of his feathers. He instantly regretted not taking off his clothes to dry, now his feathers had become extra salty and sandy compared to Scrooge. He just didn’t want to comply with the Scotsman when he suggested hanging his clothes out to dry. Also, he didn’t have a thin under-layer of clothes as Scrooge did and he didn’t want to be around him bare. 

Instead of getting the relief he desperately desired, he was being dragged on to his feet by Scrooge who was being careful to not bump the swollen wrist. Despite the roughness of pulling Glomgold to his feet, Scrooge’s touch was light and calculated, only using the necessary amount of strength to get him standing. It was an odd sensation to Glomgold. Any time he’s touched another person it was always rough; competitive grips and handshakes, dealing hits, being hit, getting pushed around or slapped. Most of those times were with Scrooge and he far surpasses being familiar with his touch, but this time was different. There’s no animosity, only annoyance, which Scrooge seemed to think doesn’t warrant any harsh gripping. The duck had also seen a vulnerability in Glomgold that he’s never witnessed before today and it’s left him in a state where he doesn’t know how to act around him. So, his grip on Glomgold was hesitant but he also hoped it would be reassuring. It only aggravated Glomgold, to the point where his cheek feathers became soft and spread apart underneath his fake beard. It was a phase Glomgold wasn’t used to, so he filed it under his body’s reaction to unwanted help, not at all thinking about how comfortable it felt compared to it’s normal bristling. 

“Curse you.”

Scrooge’s hands dropped once Glomgold was on his feet, a baffled look on his face. It was wiped away almost immediately, a plain yet tired expression took its place.

“Why am I surprised?”

Glomgold looked away, eyebrows furrowed. He tried to let out a retort. Anything that made him appear as he usually would. But instead, he let out a weak response that was out of his control and thankfully unnoticed by Scrooge, “let me save face.”

Scrooge had his hands on his hips, gazing at the injured wrist hanging limply at Glomgold’s side. He wondered aloud, “what are we goin’ to do ab-”

Without giving Scrooge a chance to finish, Glomgold raced toward the water and a loud splash was heard soon after. 

“What in-- curse me kilts, he’s like a child!” Scrooge grumbled before he made his way to the pond where he found Glomgold shaking his feathers to get them wetter. He seemed to be mindful of his wrist, having it hover to avoid bumping it into anything. Whether Glomgold didn’t notice Scrooge was standing at the edge behind him or he was just ignoring him, he seemed to be enjoying himself, brushing out the sand that was nestled in every available space on his body. It appeared to be the former as the bathing duck jumped at the sudden voice appearing behind him.

Scrooge asked, “what are ye doing?”

Glomgold turned to face him, taking his hand away from his arm and replying, “I needed to get the blasted sand and salt off o’ me! An’ was trying to get away from you.” 

A small huff escaped Scrooge as he listened to Glomgold, finding the whole prospect amusing. He retorted, “y’know, if ye had listened to me and let your clothes out to dry it wouldn’t be as insufferable.”

“Oh and what? Let Scrooge McDuck have the benefit of telling _me_ what ter do? I’d rather have constant chafing than listen ter ye. Besides, I wasn’t going to be naked while you still had on yer shirt.”

Scrooge sighed. He looked down at his body and took in his appearance. Glomgold was right, despite adding in that jab just for his ego’s sake, they were both incredibly filthy and uncomfortable, feathers becoming stiff and feet darkening with dirt. 

He took a step into the water where it was shallow before it took a sudden drop in depth. His spats were still barely holding on, but Scrooge wouldn’t be surprised if he reemerged with his feet bare. In Glomgold’s surprise, whereas it looked like Scrooge was contemplating what to do, he dove in without any hesitation. It took a few seconds for him to resurface a few spaces away from the gazing duck. 

There’s no doubt that Scrooge looked different without his top hat and spectacles. He appeared younger yet more withered, but he looked like a downright child when the water weighed down his perky feathers on his face. It wasn’t something Glomgold noticed when they were out at sea, quite obviously trying to survive on the unknown. But the way the tuft of feathers on Scrooge’s head became bangs shocked Glomgold into a state of uncertainty. He couldn’t look away and that angered him. 

“Way to invade my personal space, _McDuck_.”

Scrooge ignored him, focusing on clearing the salt that crystalised beneath his eyes before he stripped off his coat. “It’s probably best to properly wash yer clothes ‘ere, get rid of the salt,” Scrooge voiced, eyes still focused on rubbing at his coat. 

Glomgold sunk further into the water, everything below his beard hidden. He replied, “I dinnae take your advice before, why would I now?”

Scrooge wanted to say _‘because I’m right’_ but he knew that if he did then Glomgold wouldn’t follow. In most instances, he wouldn’t care what the other duck did, but he was trying his best to avoid any possibilities of Glomgold whinging and his unwashed clothes were just a time-bomb for annoyances waiting to happen. He already had to deal with an injury, he didn’t want to add skin irritation to the mix. 

There was a voice at the back of his head telling him to back off a bit, but he was reluctant to listen. This duck put him here, he wasn’t going to go easy on him, no matter how much his pathetic display made him reconsider. 

Rippling waves met Scrooge’s hands as they scrubbed at his coat. He looked up to see Glomgold had turned around, facing the opposite direction. It seemed as if he was looking down. With the angle he was just able to see that half of Glomgold’s beak was submerged in the water. Curiously, he watched as the other duck remained still for a few moments before he moved his arms to strip off his outer coat, discarding it to get to his other layers. He let his clothes drift away, focusing on his last shirt as he undid his buttons, taking off the long-sleeved dress shirt. 

It occurred to Scrooge at that moment what Glomgold was talking about. Even though he had an under-layer, it was still quite a heavy piece of clothing, not unlike his singlet. Glomgold didn’t see the point in removing his layers of clothes when it wouldn’t make a difference, except for being hotter, which never seemed to be a problem to the duck. 

Somehow, Scrooge was starting to slowly understand his rival, in a peculiar sort of way. 

Glomgold was holding his shirt in his hands, refusing to move his shoulders above the surface. He was just able to have his hands breach the surface and start to slowly scrub the sand he could feel off. He was at it for a while before he felt the gaze of the older duck burning through him. He turned his head, eyes narrowed as he met Scrooge’s eyes.

Glomgold grumbled, “got somethin’ ter say?”

Turning so Scrooge was fully facing him, he replied, “what about yer kilt?”

“What about it? Want me ter strip, McDuck?”

A ghastly expression overtook Scrooge’s face. “What? N-no, I--”

“It’s _fine._ It’s breezy. I’ve already got rid of the sand that was stuck under the band.”

Scrooge was struck silent. His mind was empty and he subconsciously started to chew on his cheek. He seemed to have accidentally learnt a few things about Glomgold while being forcibly stuck on an island by said duck. One thing being that he was really aggressive when approached about his appearance. The thought of stripping in front of another duck seemed to weigh on Glomgold, going to any length to avoid it. It appears that chafing wasn’t as worth being right as he originally made it out to be. 

Glomgold had turned his attention back to his shirt, gently twisting it in the water, struggling as he tried to take the brunt of the movement with his uninjured hand. In the distance, Scrooge took notice of Glomgold’s tie, slowly moving away with his other forgotten clothing. Leaving behind his coat he ventured to the middle of the pond, getting to a depth where he had to dive as he no longer could reach the bottom. 

The sudden increase in noise stole Glomgold’s attention. He looked in the direction of the sound to find that Scrooge was nowhere in sight, only ripples to show any sign that he was just there. Glomgold’s face fell and the feathers on his neck and head started to rise, standing on end. He slowly started to back up towards the edge of the pond, trying not to make any disturbances in the water. 

It was then that he felt something draw closer, the water pushing against his legs. From before him, the water drew apart as something burst from beneath it.

“ _Bloody fucker!_ ” Glomgold drew his eyes shut, lifting his arms to his face defensively, still mostly submerged in the water.

A bellowing laugh ruptured before him. 

“Calm down, Flinty, it’s just me.”

Glomgold moved his arms away from his sight to see Scrooge about two feet in front of him. He scowled, his heart failing to settle to its usual pace. 

“You fu--”

“Yes, yes. I’m a right devil, save yer curses.” One last chuckle left him before he raised his hand that held Glomgold’s tie.

The owner frowned, eyes furrowed in confusion. “What are ye doing?”

Scrooge shook his head. “Give me your arm,” he ordered.

Understanding struck the stubborn duck.

“No.”

“Glom--”

“I won’t.”

A snarl formed on Scrooge’s beak; his patience wearing thin. He took a step closer, lifting the hand that held the tie higher in the air. As Glomgold was temporarily distracted by the movement, Scrooge struck his hand, grabbing the duck’s arm and lifting it from under the water, the pressure of the water making Glomgold wince. 

“Don’t ye eve--”

“Don’t make me hurt ye, Flintheart.”

The threat silenced Glomgold. He stubbornly pouted as he watched Scrooge’s hold loosen and shift his hand to the wrist. He used his other hand to wrap the tie around it, making Glomgold wince when he applied pressure. With the angle of Scrooge’s head and his posture, his forehead almost met with Glomgold’s, the feathers that were still perked from Glomgold’s fear just brushing his head. Scrooge didn’t notice though, the water in his feathers blanketing his skin. 

Glomgold didn’t fail to notice that it was the closest they’d ever been when they weren’t at each other’s throats. On top of that, it’s one of the few moments they weren’t competing in a rivalry altogether; each moment he could count on one hand. He wasn’t used to it, and the feeling was so foreign he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. There were no times he could recall that anyone even offered help on this level. None at all. 

It wasn’t something he thought about. Now he knew why. Emptiness clawed at his chest and it suddenly became harder to breathe. 

Scrooge was the only one who noticed him, more than once. 

He didn’t want to think of the repercussions of that revelation.

The Scotsman moved away, checking over the weave of the tie before deciding he was complacent. “I’m not sure if we’ll need a splint but for the moment it’s fine.”

Scrooge looked at Glomgold’s face, noticing an absence in his expression. He cocked a brow at the younger duck, seeming to catch him as he sharply snapped into reality. Glomgold’s features furrowed in a scowl, hiding a glint of mischief in his eyes. Before Scrooge could determine what thoughts were running through the other’s mind he was hit with a wave of water. 

He sputtered, wiping away the water that clung to his head feathers so he could glare at his attacker. Glomgold was growing red in the face, eyes twitching before he erupted into a fit of laughter. 

“You should ‘ave seen yer face, McDuck!” Glomgold bellowed, so lost in his amusement that he stood properly in the water, his chest half emerged. Scrooge noticed Glomgold’s lack of guard and smirked, happy that Glomgold was starting to act more like himself. Surprisingly. He never thought he would feel that way; that he’d rather the usual Glomgold. Preference wasn’t in question though. Scrooge just wasn’t good at whatever situation Glomgold was creating with his out-of-character actions and insecurity that he’d only slightly seen in Duke Baloney. 

Now that Scrooge thought about it, maybe there was more to the appearance of Duke Baloney than just the surface. The implications of his character could mean much more in terms of Flintheart Glomgold and who he truly was. 

He filed that thought away as he struck at the surface of the water, angling his strike to create a wave that hit Glomgold face-on, the water entering his mouth while he laughed. Glomgold ended up choking until his throat hurt. He threw a glare at Scrooge after he managed to calm down, eyes red. 

“You’ve done it now. Prepare to weep when I beat you.”

"I fail to recall you ever beating me, today isn't going to be any different."

Glomgold growled, "I'll make you eat those words," before pouncing on top of Scrooge, pushing him underwater. 

Scrooge only fell from shock out of the suddenness of the attack. When he got his bearings he was able to push Glomgold off and breach the surface. 

"Two can play at that game, Flinty. Don't forget, I'm stronger than ye."

Scrooge didn't attack though. He was never on the offence. He only made defensive attacks so he prepared himself for Glomgold's next move. 

Surprisingly, Glomgold didn't attack. He stepped away from Scrooge and made his way to his forgotten shirt that was drifting on the water's surface towards Scrooge's neglected coat. The other duck watched in bewilderment at the shortest fight they'd ever had. 

"Giving up, aye?"

Glomgold scoffed in response, turning to face Scrooge as he curved the edges of his beak upwards in a cocky grin.

Without a word, he dove under the water. The water too deep to see far down so the whereabouts of the duck was unknown. There was no doubt Glomgold was on his way to him, it was just the matter of when he was going to strike.

Just as he thought, he was taken by surprise as something gripped at his leg, pulling him under. He opened his eyes to see Glomgold above him, his eyes half-closed with a victorious smirk adorning his face. He watched as Glomgold rose above the water before he followed suit.

Shaking the water out of his feathers, Scrooge glared at Glomgold. “Pulling me underwater accomplishes nothing. Besides, isn’t it putting a strain on your wrist?”

Glomgold stiffened his shoulders. "Pain is something I can ignore for the sake of besting you."

After that statement the air around them became heavy. At least, it felt like it to Scrooge. It wasn’t something he wanted to think about yet his mind wandered there anyway. 

“Why?” Scrooge’s question hung heavily on his tongue and burrowed deep in Glomgold’s stomach. The tone faltered as it left his mouth, carrying a quiver of uncertainty. It almost compelled Glomgold to actually think about why he tries so hard but he wasn’t going there while he was half-naked in a pond with his enemy. 

Glomgold turned around, heading towards his shirt once more, “nice try, Scrooge. Yer not getting me to reveal any weaknesses so you could use them against me.”

Scrooge narrowed his eyes, “that’s not--”

“Save it.” Glomgold took a hold of his shirt with his uninjured hand and headed towards the bank of the pond. He drifted his gaze towards Scrooge as if trying to convey some sort of hidden message. “Get yer arse out of the water, I’m not sticking around until dark.”

A grumble left Scrooge’s throat as he aimed to retrieve his coat and exit the pond. 

As they went to leave the area, Scrooge suddenly stopped short. He pondered, “how are we going to lead ourselves here tomorrow?”

Glomgold shot a condescending glare towards Scrooge. “I dinnae know. Aren’t ye supposed to be the smart one?” 

Scrooge sighed. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow. We also didn’t get any food.”

“Uhh…” Glomgold felt a pang of guilt. Or hunger. Glomgold was labelling it a strike of hunger.

Looking towards the sky, Scrooge mused, “there’s no time, we need to build a fire.” He looked at Glomgold, studying his screwed expression. “Unless you want to search while I build--”

“No!” Glomgold cried. He sputtered afterwards, hiding his shout behind a cough. He stuttered, “I mean, I can wait ‘til tomorrow.”

Scrooge raised his brow at Glomgold, judging his expressions before deciding to let him be.

After a few minutes of walking, they made it to the beach not far from where the shelter was set up. Collecting the leftover wood in a pile they created a place for the fire. Glomgold sat down as he watched Scrooge search for the possible materials to start a flame. While he searched he went over to Glomgold and took his shirt, hanging both of their clothing on top of their shelter to dry. 

While Scrooge was distracted, Glomgold picked up a piece of bark, a dead leaf and a stick and started working on creating enough heated friction to create a flame. After a while of working on the fire, he got the leaf to smoke. Blowing on it and adding more kindling, he raised the flame and tossed into the pile of sticks. The cackling and light of the fire drew Scrooge away from his search, wandering back towards where Glomgold was sitting. His face was stunned into pure shock and struggled to utter a single word.

Scrooge sat down next to Glomgold, gaze still stuck on the growing warmth before them. “Where’d ye learn to make a fire?”

Glomgold scoffed and brought his hands to his upper arms, closing in on himself, either for warmth or solace. He replied, “reasons called for it. Besides, there’s no reason to learn anything about me.”

Scrooge shifted his eyes to look through his peripheral. A frown was etched deeply on Glomgold’s beak. His mind wandered to everything that happened that day; from the _Golden Goose_ to the crash caused by Glomgold which sent them overboard, them drifting onto this island and bickering like children for the most part of their time here, which was thankfully only a dozen or so hours. During those hours he’d learnt more about Glomgold than the whole time he’d known him, and weirdly enough it felt like he knew less.

Without shifting his head he stated, “maybe I’d like to start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend for this chapter to be such a bottle episode, I'm sorry :')
> 
> The Golden Goose is a reference to the Ducktales '87 episode, 'Down & Out in Duckburg'. 
> 
> It's also come to my attention that the Glomgold I've written is a headcanon. I didn't mean for him to be more my headcanon Glomgold than canon, and I apologise for that. I really hope he isn't too ooc and I'll try and get a grip on his character in the next chapters.
> 
> I at least hope that you enjoyed reading nonetheless, and reviews really help.

**Author's Note:**

> *completely tosses the fact that Glomgold has a high pain tolerance out the window*
> 
> I do feel bad ignoring that fact for convenience, but it's even shown in the show after Duke Baloney that he reacts to pain, so it's not too far-fetched. 
> 
> I really hope you like this so far, and I'd appreciate it if you let me know. Thank you!


End file.
